


(You Are My) Sunshine

by mothsocks



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bittersweet, College AU, M/M, POV Keith (Voltron), Photography, Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Spring Break, the others are mentioned but they're not relevant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 10:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30104598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothsocks/pseuds/mothsocks
Summary: pining Keith. need i say more?
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	(You Are My) Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> i am in emotional peril <3

Keith takes Lance to the park when he comes home for spring break to test out his new, navy blue polaroid camera. Lance tells him he got it only a week ago, watching intently as Keith turns it over in his hands. Keith wonders, half-absently, when Lance had time to paint the little white stars along the side. He hands the camera back without asking.

Lance is beautiful in the sunlight. Well—he’s beautiful in all lighting, but Keith thinks sunlight suits him best. It just… fits him. Maybe it’s because of all the ways Lance is like the sun—warm, bright, life-giving. Ever-present, even when blocked by a cloud or a passing bird. And so, so far out of Keith’s reach, yet close enough to see. Close enough to feel the emanating warmth of, but not to touch. Never to touch.

When he stands in the sunlight, Lance glows. His eyes, perpetually lit by some internal flame, are finally contested in brilliance by his surroundings. Never beaten, of course, but challenged by their only worthy competitor—challenged by the sun itself. His dark skin turns to liquid gold, caramelized as the sun soaks into it. It looks softer, somehow, and Keith often finds himself looking away to avoid testing that theory. Lance’s smile, too, turns luminescent in sunlight, slightly crooked teeth on full display, tiny dimples accentuated in shadow. Everything about him comes alive.

Keith has never said any of this to anyone—not to Pidge, nor Hunk, nor Allura, not even to Shiro. Certainly not to Lance. Honestly, he doesn’t think he could if he tried. He worries that his friends would judge him, or that they would let word slip to Lance, which he can’t risk. If Lance knew how often Keith has to avert his eyes to keep himself from blushing or touching or _something,_ everything would change. Everything would be wrong. Ruined.

So he ignores it. He pretends his hands don’t itch to push back Lance’s hair from his forehead. He pretends he hasn’t cataloged all of Lance’s little moles and scars, each of his scattered freckles. He pretends he doesn’t think about kissing Lance when he shows up in a particularly nice shirt, or a new outfit Keith hasn’t seen before. He pretends he doesn’t ache when he sees Lance holding hands with someone, with anyone that isn’t him. He pretends he doesn’t wish it was him.

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself, none of these stupid feelings matter, because they would change his friendship with Lance, and Lance is the one of the only steady things he has in the friendship department. Lance is the thing he needs most to stay. He can’t lose him. He _can’t._ So he stays quiet.

Lance falls asleep in Keith’s car as he drives them back home. At every stoplight, Keith glances over to him, watching as his soft breathing flutters a bit of hair near his mouth. At one point, Lance shifts just slightly towards the window, causing the sunlight flowing through it to hit his eyelashes at an angle that casts long, pretty shadows over his cheeks. Keith watches him for a second too long, misses the moment the light turns green, and is violently startled back into reality by an angry driver blaring the horn from behind him. Lance doesn’t even stir.

Keith doesn’t try to wake Lance when he stops in the driveway of his parents’ house—one part because he knows it’s hopeless, one part because he thinks Lance deserves the rest, and one (significantly more guilty) part to have an excuse to carry him inside.

He’s not trying to be creepy—and he tells himself that he _isn’t_ —but he likes having Lance this close to him. Likes the way Lance shifts slightly as Keith picks him up, mumbling something incoherent before settling into Keith’s arms like he belongs there. Likes how soft he looks when he’s asleep, and how he still talks in sleep, like nothing in the world can compel him not to. Likes how much smaller he seems—even though Keith knows they’re about the same size—in Keith’s arms, and how it feels like he’s protecting him. Likes the smell of his shampoo, floral and sweet.

Maybe even more so, Keith likes the way Lance grumbles when he sets him down, clinging to Keith like he doesn’t want to be released. It doesn’t count—Keith knows that. Lance is asleep; he doesn’t know what he’s doing, or who he’s reaching for. Still, it’s nice to pretend sometimes. It’s nice to imagine Lance asking him to stay.

Keith does stay—only for a moment—to pull Lance’s blanket over him and push his hair off of his forehead. Keith lets his hands linger there, fingertips brushing Lance’s temples. He lets his eyes roam over Lance’s sleeping face one last time, over his long, pretty eyelashes and high cheekbones, over his sharp nose and jawline, over his dozens and dozens of freckles. He lets himself commit Lance’s face to memory as if he hasn’t already done so a hundred times.

Eventually, Keith stands, hand trailing over Lance’s doorframe as he looks back at him one last time. Then, it’s been long enough—though, nothing is really long enough. But Keith knows when his welcome is overstayed.

It’s time for him to go.


End file.
